Love? What's Love?
by silver sheen
Summary: Love doesn't exist. We are all controlled by our hormones, and true love is something only in books. Right?
1. Chapter one

Disclaimer: now really, do I need to write this? Don't sue me; I'm merely playing with someone else's toys. the only person that can really sue me is J.K. herself, and i doubt she'll ever read this...

Yes, I do realize that the plot following the forced marriage!Draco and Hermione storyline is a tad bit overused (biggest understatement of the century, might I add..) but however it makes a nice plot, clichéd though it might be. And plus is convenient for me. )

Cookies for all reviewers! And I mean it. Also, please, if you flame me, make sure it's CONSTRUCTIVE, not just the incomprehensible and downright insulting rants I see so many people writing these days.

chapter 1

"What do you mean, 'I'm not sure about this'?! That family is rich, I tell you! They invite you over, and now you're telling me that you're having second thoughts?!" Ginny Weasley sat up in her seat, her face set in a mask of fury. Hermione calmly flicked her wand, piling her robes into her trunk in neat, even stacks.

"I never mentioned that I'm having second thoughts; I just merely mentioned that I hate the idea of going to dinner parties and balls. It's ludicrous how these so called "Purebloods" like to spend their time. No offense," Hermione quickly added, glancing at her best friend.

"None taken." Unperturbed, Ginny sat back in her chair again. "So you're still going?"

"Yes, I suppose. Hannah Abbot _has_ been a good friend of mine ever since we graduated from Hogwarts. At least her family isn't so bigoted and close-minded like some I can name." she shook out her dress robes and carefully folded them. "It would be nice if I met her brother; I've heard so much about him," she added. Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"Honestly Ginny, get your mind out of the gutter! Not every female wants a boyfriend you know," Hermione said, irritated. She jabbed her wand at the stack of clothing, shrinking them so that they'd fit perfectly into the trunk. Ginny sighed.

"Hermione, I must say that there's something wrong with you. What girl wouldn't want a boyfriend?"

"Think about it. Do I really need one?" Hermione closed the suitcase, snapping the buckles so that they locked, holding the trunk closed. "All I want to do in life really is to-"

"Spend your life with your nose buried in some book," interrupted Ginny. "Personally, I'm glad for this trip you're taking; it might draw you out of your shell. You _need_ to get out more." She grabbed a clipboard that was resting on a nearby table. "Wait; wait. Before you go, I'll need to check your luggage."

"My luggage?"

"Nine sets of regular daytime robes?"

"Uuh… check..?" Ginny made a tick on the parchment.

"Three sets of stunningly beautiful dress robes?"

" 'Stunningly beautiful'?"

"Just shush and tell me if you have it or not."

"Check?" Another tick.

"Toothbrush?"

"Check." Tick.

And on and on it went. Finally, Ginny reached the end of the list.

"Amazingly sexy lingerie?"

"Ginny, I'm not sure 'amazingly sexy' fits me."

"I'll take that as a check." She ticked off the last item on the list. Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and glanced at her watch.

"I've got to get going now. Hannah mentioned meeting me at the Leaky Cauldron around nine." She turned around and opened the door.

"Wait a minute." A stern-faced Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm, whirling her around. "Now you listen to me. You are going to enjoy yourself, you hear me?"

"Yes, Ginny." Hermione smiled in spite of herself. "See you in a few weeks. Make sure you feed Crookshanks!" Ginny waved a hand at her.

"I'll be seeing you soon, so take care!"

Hermione stepped out of the room carrying her trunk and with a loud crack, apparated away.

Somewhere miles and miles away from where Ginny and Hermione were, a lone figure sat in a darkened room. Staring out of a partially curtained window, he stroked the scaly, triangular head of a giant snake that was coiled in his lap. After a moment of thought, he turned his head to the door.

"Bring Lucius to me," he said in a low voice. The sentry standing guard outside murmured a word of compliance and went to fetch his comrade. After a few minutes, an aristocratic blonde man stepped over the threshold.

"You called, my Lord?"

"I did." The figure continued to stroke the snake's head for a few moments. Then, suddenly, he spoke. "How old is your son now, Lucius?"

"Draco turned twenty two last month, my Lord."

"I see." Another pause. "Well, now I have a task for you. Do you think that you can carry it out?"

"Of course. Whatever you ask of me shall be so." Lucius inclined his head.

"Such loyalty from my followers…" hissed the figure narrowed his red eyes. "…Well now. Listen carefully, if you will." He beckoned at the silver-haired man. "This is what you must do."

"Master?"

"Are you willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for our purpose?"

"Yes, Master. Anything you desire from me you shall have."

"Very good. And what would you say, perchance, if I said that I required your son?"

"I would let you have him. My first and foremost duty is to follow your orders." Lord Voldemort laughed softly.

"Yes indeed, Lucius. Hear me now." He paused, letting the snake slither out of his lap. "A prophecy was made at some time; whether it be two hours ago or two years ago is of no pertinence to you. However, suffice to say I need a child. A very special child. One that only your son can sire, and one that must be mothered by a very powerful witch."

"That's easy enough, my Lord." Another quiet chuckle interrupted him.

"Have I said that was all? You must listen more closely."

"I apologize for my rude interruption; please continue." Lucius bowed his head in apology.

"He must be bound to this woman. Bound I say, by the laws of matrimony."

"Will the Parkinson girl do, my Lord? Her family has been courting Draco about marriage for years now and they are a good, strong Pureblood family."

"My dear Lucius. Did I say that I wanted a lack-wit? That girl can barely cast the simplest of hexes. The child they will produce will not be nearly as strong as I need."

"Then who?" Voldemort crooked one long finger, indicating that Lucius should step closer. He did, and bent his head to his lord. Voldemort whispered something into his ear, and Lucius immediately straightened with a horrified expression on his face.

"But my Lord! It is positively repulsive! My son married to a- a-"

"Mudblood?" Voldemort laughed, an eerie sound that resonated through the bare room. "Mudblood she may be, but powerful witch she is."

"But-"

"Are you saying that you cannot follow these simple orders?" The narrowed red slits flared open, striking Lucius with the full power of Voldemort's fury. Frightened at the look in his master's eyes, Lucius hurried to cover his blunder.

"No, no, master. I shall do as you say. But what if Draco objects?"

"Let him object. Is his opinion worth more than mine?"

"Not at all, not at all."

"Make sure you do this correctly. If necessary, you may use the potions that have been brewed in the potions room to achieve your goal."

"Yes, Master."

"Now leave me."

Without another word, Lucius bowed and backed out of the room.

Hermione appeared on a muggle street with a little pop, dragging her trunk behind her. Hastily, she tucked her wand away and walked briskly towards the dingy little pub in front, lugging her baggage with both hands. Everywhere muggles bustled about, rudely shunting her left and right. They did not take notice of the brown-haired witch as they hurried down the sidewalk.

"Oof!" Hermione gasped as she accidentally dropped the trunk.

"Miss, would you like some help?" Turning around, she saw a young boy at the doorstep.

"Yes, please," she panted. The boy moved over to one side of the trunk, lifting it up and motioning that she should pick up the other side. She grasped the leather handle and lifted. She made her way to the steps, waddling rather ungracefully as she struggled to keep the trunk up. As soon as they made it inside, the boy set down the trunk.

"You can take care of it here; the Delusion charm should keep the muggles from seeing anything."

"Thank you." she smiled gratefully. Then, whipping out her wand, she pointed it at her trunk and with a muttered charm, cast a Levitation spell. She sighed with relief.

"Hermione!" Tom, the ever cheerful bartender, waved from behind the counter. "Would you like a room? We have a few available; a few people had to cancel their reservations at the last minute."

"No thanks; I'm waiting for someone." She went over and plunked herself down on a stool. "In the meantime, do you suppose you can whip up a gillywater for me?"

"No problem. You want lemon or lime?"

"Lemon will do, thank you." she pulled out a small pouch of money and laid a few sickles on the table. Deftly, Tom scooped them up with his hand and flicked them at a cash register, which opened its drawer automatically with a small ding to receive the money.

Idly, Hermione's eyes began to rove around the pub. At this hour in the morning, not many people were up and about. The fire was put out, and all was quiet. She pulled out a thick book and slammed it on the counter, opening it up to the middle.

"Still at it with the books, ey?" Tom grinned his toothless grin as he grabbed a bottle of lemon juice and squirted a bit into her gillywater. "What you readin' now?

"_The Workings of the Wizarding Mind: a Guide To Occlumency and Legilimency_," answered Hermione. Tom whistled.

"Crazy stuff, that." He stuck a little parasol into her drink and slid it across to her. "Here's your drink."

"Thanks again." she picked it up. "Cheers." Engrossed with her book, she put the straw to her mouth and gave it a few good chews before she drank. Chew. Sip. Chew. Sip. Chew. Sip.

"Um… Tom?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you can get me another straw?" he laughed and flipped her one from a stack on the shelf. Before she could thank him again, she heard someone call her name.

"HERMIONEEEE!!" Hermione choked on her drink, splattering a few drops on her book.

"Hannah!" she got up to greet her friend. Rushing towards the bar, Hannah grabbed Hermione and pulled her into a hug.

"It's been so long! I haven't seen you in ages!" Hannah pulled away, beaming. "How's work?"

"It's perfect. I have a good income, and I love research."

"That's wonderful to hear." Then she noticed the luggage. "Ah, yes! Are you ready to go?"

"Ready as ever." Hermione downed the last of her gillywater. She set the empty glass on the counter and left a couple of knuts on the table as a tip. "Thank you, Tom." She closed her book and put it in her bag.

"My god, that is a big book. What have you been doing with yourself lately?"

"Oh… You know. The usual." Hermione waved her hand vaguely and then pulled out her wand. "Ready to go?" she grabbed her trunk.

"Yep." Opening her Josule designer handbag, Hannah pulled out her wand as well. "On the count of three. One, two, three." With a loud crack, the two vanished.

Well? Review please


	2. Chapter two

Disclaimer: Once again, not my toys.

Wrings hands what to do… What to do? It's really nice of you those who reviewed ) I appreciate it. More reviewers please? I'd do the bambi eyes, but that's not really my thing.

Chapter 2

"It's so beautiful!" Hermione breathed, looking around at the landscaping. She took in the thick, lush grass that covered the grounds. Flowers of every color lined the walks, and topiaries dotted the grass. Huge weeping willows were planted all over; their graceful dipping branches brushing the ground.

"Isn't it?" Hannah visibly preened herself. "My parents spend a fortune trying to keep the lawn tidy. We have an herb garden out in the back, if you're interested."

Hermione smiled; here was another perfect opportunity to expand her knowledge. Suddenly, she started to feel better about this whole trip. "Well," she said briskly, "Let's get going. I wanted to meet your brother; you've told me so much about him."

"Oh yes! He's really something I tell you. I think he's away now though; I heard him mumble something about Diagon Alley this morning." She opened the gates.

"Well, there's always plenty of time to meet him; I'll just have to simply wait. i locomotor trunk /i ." obediently, the trunk lifted from the ground and followed them through the gates.

Without a word, the two women walked along the path to the main doors. When they reached the entrance, Hannah lifted the brass knocker and dropped it, creating a booming sound that echoed around the grounds.

"Elva!" Hannah raised her voice. "It's Hannah! Open up, please!" after a few moments, the door slowly swung open with a small sound revealing a small house elf dressed in a tea rag.

"Welcome home, miss." As Hannah stepped into the house, a middle-aged woman dressed in blue silk robes came hurrying towards them. She frowned at the door.

"Elva, have those hinges oiled. They should not squeak like that."

"Yes, miss." Then, the lady noticed Hannah and Hermione.

"Hannah! I see that you have brought your friend to stay with us!" she turned to Hermione. "I've heard so much about you, dear. Hannah told us about how well you did in Hogwarts; it's extraordinary how highly our daughter thinks of you." she enfolded her into a hug. "Welcome to our house, dear. I hope that you will find it suitable for your stay… But come in girls, come in! I have Hermione's room prepared across the hall from yours, Hannah. Is that suitable?" she ushered the two girls into the foyer, closing the door behind her.

"Yes, Ms. Abbot that's fine. Thank you for your trouble; it was so nice of you to allow me to stay here." Hermione inclined her head to express her gratitude.

"Oh, Hermione, it's no trouble at all; don't worry about it." Hannah smiled and then pulled Hermione towards an elaborately carved staircase on the left. "Come on, I'll show you your rooms." Together, they climbed the short flight of steps. Hermione found herself standing in a beautiful hallway with doors opening off on both sides. A painted fresco of flowers ran down the length of the hall, and floating candles illuminated the portraits hanging on the walls.  
"These are our ancestors. Don't mind great great grandfather Joey; he was some kind of a.." here she paused, looking for the right word. "..A pimp." Hermione snorted. "He died right when he was debauching his daughter's governess. They found him bare-arse naked on her bed with her screaming her head off." Hannah dropped her voice. "Really, I don't get why his portrait is up here. It's so sick."

"Will you quit talking about me so disrespectfully?!" a young man on their left stirred irritably in his frame. "I do have feelings, you know." Hannah snorted and walked past the painting.

"Men," she muttered. Hermione stifled a giggle as she heard great great grandfather Joey shouting at their retreating backs.

"You silly little bint! Don't you have respect for your elders?" Hannah spun around on her heel.

"Elder?!" she shouted. "You were only ten years older then me when you died! What are you going on about?!"

"Technically I've been around before you were born, u silly bint!"

"Oh, that's it." Hannah rolled up her sleeves and frog marched back to the painting. Great great grandfather Joey glared down at her. She pulled her wand out and leveled it at the painting. "Call me a silly bint again and I'll hex your pretty boy nose off. I'd like to see how successful you are with the ladies without it." He shut up and glared at her.

"I know for a fact that your mother likes me the best out of all the paintings. You try it and she'll murder you."

"Will you two shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep, you know." An old man in the next painting blearily opened one eye and glanced at them.

"Goodness, will you two take it somewhere else?" snapped the portrait of a very irked young lady across the hall. "You're always having a go at one another." Both pimp painting and a pissed off Hannah turned to glare at her. Finally, Hannah put her wand away.

"Whatever," she said. "Come on Hermione." She turned and walked back to her friend, leading her to a room down the hall. "Thank Merlin my room is the farthest away from that asshole," she mumbled. "Mother should just take him down and burn him on a rubbish heap. This room's yours." Biting back a laugh, Hermione opened the door that Hannah was pointing to. A crème and blue colored room greeted her eyes. Royal blue curtains were draped across the windows. A canopied bed with scalloped valences and tie-back curtains was against one wall, and a dresser and vanity was against the other. Opposite the windows, a fireplace made of white stone was already lit and crackling away.

"Wow! Hannah, this room is beautiful!" Hannah beamed.

"I figured that you would like the Blue Room." Hermione's trunk floated in and deposited itself in front of the dresser. "If you like, I'll send Elva up here to help you unpack."

"No thanks; I can manage."

"I'll leave you to your things then; I need to go ask mother something. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all. You go right ahead." Hermione smiled and walked over to her trunk. She knelt and unlatched the lock, throwing back the lid. Carefully, she removed her clothing and put it on the carpeted floor, making sure that she did nothing to disturb the stack. Getting up to investigate the wardrobe, she tripped over her stack of clothes and knocked it over.

"Oh god." Cursing her clumsiness, she picked them up again. Looking up, she noticed the clothes hangers in the wardrobe. She stood up and started hanging up her robes. As she slipped the last garment on the hanger, Hannah came in through the door again.

"Hermione do you have a minute?" she looked up.

"What, Hannah?"

"I forgot to mention earlier that we're having a dinner party tonight. We invited well over fifty people, and my mom wants you to have your makeup done with me in half an hour."

"What?!" Hermione dropped the robe on the floor where it lay, forgotten. "But… I don't have anything to wear!"

"Ah, Hermione… calm down; you did pack those dress robes I asked you to pack right?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure that they're really appropriate."

"Well, I'm telling you they are. Wear the red one; it'll work very nicely. I'll be back to get you for the makeup." She gave her a thumbs up and then walked out. The silence following Hannah's retreat was deafening.

i This is exactly what I wanted to avoid /i , thought Hermione grimly. Social occasions… ugh. Her skin broke out into gooseflesh just thinking about it. Curse this stygian, saturnine function called society. What need did she have of it anyway? Hermione kicked her trunk.

"Argh!" she fell down, clutching her toe. Now she was going to have to hobble around as well. "I might as well get started trying to find that stupid red robe," she muttered, tottering to the trunk. She started scouring her baggage, trying to find the blasted thing. Which, coincidently, took her exactly half an hour to dig up.

o0o0o0o0o

"Found it!" triumphantly, Hermione held up the red silk. "I finally found the little bugger- God that took up quite a chunk of time," she said, rubbing her sore toe.

"Hermione, are you done?" Hannah poked her head in again. "Elva and mother's maid are here to paint us up. Come, they're waiting in my bathroom." Stiffly, Hermione stood up clutching the robes.

"Coming," she said. Sweet, baby Merlin her toenail was killing her.

She followed Hannah to her private bathroom, which included two stools in front of a counter and a mirror. Hannah indicated that she should sit down in one, and she did. A woman with the sharpest nose Hermione had ever seen came in, wheeling a cart piled high with eyeliner, lipsticks, and other various makeup that was bound to cause an allergic reaction for Hermione.

Fascinated, she stared at the woman's nose. She watched as her lips began moving. It took her a while to figure out that the woman was talking to her. She blinked. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" the maid looked at her like she was daft.

"I said would you kindly turn around and face me so I can get this done quicker?"

"Oh. Sorry." Hermione reluctantly swiveled around on her stool to subject herself to the horror of makeup. As the maid began brushing her face with a light powder, Hermione had to restrain from sneezing snot into her face. Did people like Hannah honestly put themselves through this sort of toilette every day? It was almost unthinkable. For what seemed like hours but actually could have only been twenty minutes, Hermione tried not to twitch as various substances was smeared onto her face.

"This feels like pig fat," she mumbled, referring to the rich, glossy lipstick that was being generously slicked onto her lips. The maid gave her a severe look, and continued with her job. After tracing her eyes with a bit of kohl, the woman with the sharp nose stepped back and pronounced her handiwork as perfect. Hannah gave her a slightly incredulous look.

"Jeanette, that didn't even take half an hour. Are you sure you did it right?"

"Positive," said the lady called Jeanette. Lord, she could really cut cheese with that nose of hers. "Thank god she doesn't have acne."

"I guess I'll go change now," said Hermione with some relief, getting up to go back to her own room.

"When your done I expect you back here; I need to fix that disgusting hair of yours," snapped Jeanette.

i What's wrong with my hair? It's still a bit long and I forgot to brush it today, but it's not DISGUSTING… /i Hermione tried to keep her face blank and devoid of emotions. She was too worried about this evening to manage a tranquil look, and serenity was totally out of her grasp at the moment.

"Alright." She walked across the hall, ignoring the whistles and catcalls of great great grandfather Joey.

Standing in front of her wardrobe, she stripped off her black robes and slipped the red one over her head. The delicious feel of silk shocked her, and the delightful, almost sensuous sliding sensation she felt as it slid into place was positively wonderful. Maybe she should start wearing silk more…

But this robe! It was a bit tight around the chest area, Hermione had to admit. She wondered what had possessed Ginny when she bought it at Gladrags. Still, she had to say that it was gorgeous. Tiny lines of gold embroidery crisscrossed the body of the robes, forming a loose hatch pattern across the torso area. A strip of gold lined the end of her sleeves and the hem of the robes. It was a bit simple, but Hermione guessed that she would have to make do. With a sigh, she made her way back to Hannah's room.

o0o0o0o0o

"Owch!" Hermione bellowed as Jeanette attacked her wavy hair with a brush.

"Keep still!" ordered Jeanette With the Sharp Nose.

"Hair Nazi," muttered Hermione. Hannah laughed.

"Now you see what I have to go through every day?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Jeanette sighed. "There's nothing else to be done with this hair. No amount of pins will keep it in a bun." Hannah glanced at Hermione.

"Just leave it down, then. I think it looks better that way anyhow." Jeanette viciously drew the brush a few more times through Hermione's hair and then put it down.

"Look in the mirror," she ordered. Glumly, Hermione complied. And then, she froze.

In that one look at the stranger staring back at her, she knew that she had treaded a path that she would never again walk. Who was this delicate, painted figurine? She barely looked like herself. Her pale face was glowing in sharp contrast with her lips and eyes. The eye shadow allowed a lustrous light into her eye; her lips were a perfect cupid's bow. With a hand, she lightly traced her cheek in wonder. Suddenly, she felt something large hit her head, ruining the moment. It appeared to be a shoe.

"MA FOI! Look at what you have done!" shrieked Jeanette the Frenchwoman. Hermione looked at her fingers and the face powder that came off on it. Then, she looked up in the mirror, and saw the streaks that she made by brushing her hand against her face. Oops...

Jeanette picked up the powder brush, holding it like a dagger. "We're doing this all over again." Hermione cringed.

o0o0o0o0o

After another hour of primping and severe torture, Hermione was back to the pristine state she was in before. Satisfied, Hannah looked Hermione over once again and nodded.

"Hermione, do you want to meet my brother now? He's just downstairs in the foyer."

"It would be nice after nearly three hours of this madness to meet someone new, yes." Hermione shut her eyes.

"Oh, come on. You look gorgeous, and I must say that your robes are a beautiful color." She smiled good-naturedly, brushing off her own jade dress robes. "Ok, let's go. They're waiting for us so we can all go to the ball room." She grabbed Hermione's arm and all but dragged her down the stairs.

In the foyer, a brown-haired young man was leaning against the wall. He tapped his foot on the floor a few times before he noticed his sister coming down the stairs. "Hannah!" he pushed himself off the wall and went to embrace her. "I'm sorry that I'm a little late today; the line at Flourish and Blotts was ridiculously long. Some author was there for a book signing or something or the other." He turned his head to Hermione. "And who's this?" he asked

"Adam, meet Hermione. She's a good friend of mine, and mother has invited her to stay for a few weeks." She pulled Hermione closer. "Hermione, meet Adam, my brother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Adam swept her a deep bow.

"Oh Adam, I forgot- you'll be escorting Hermione tonight. She doesn't have an escort, and there aren't any available men to do it."

"Of course. I assume that mum knows about it?"

"She does. Speaking of mother, where in the world are our parents?" as if on cue, Ms. Abbot's shrill voice rang from the top of the stairs.

"Hannah, dear," she trilled. "Are these shoes a bit too much?" instinctively, the three people standing in the foyer turned up to look at the shining figure standing on the second floor. It was like looking at the sun. The iridescent shine of the slippers nearly blinded them. Hermione closed her eyes.

"Yea mum, I'd say that it's too much," said Adam, wincing.

"Sweetheart, you know that I love you but men have about as much fashion sense as a Bowtruckle." She turned to Hermione and Hannah. "So, girls? It's genuine stardust, you know. These shoes were on sale- 50 galleons for a pair. I bought them at the Josule retailer yesterday."

"Too much." Hannah turned her head away, afraid her retinas were going to be burnt out. "Mum I think that those people ripped you off."

"Oh. Well…" a bit disappointed, Ms. Abbot went back into her room. As soon as she did, a roar blasted through the second story.

"Miranda, I insist that you keep those shoes in the box! What were you thinking when you bought them?!"

"That's dad," whispered Hannah. "I'll introduce you as soon as they come down." Adam rolled his eyes.

"Hopefully they will before they start another bloody row," he said, raising his voice deliberately so that his parents would hear.

"Adam Abbot, you are lucky that we have a guest in our house now; I have a right mind to march down there and blister your ears," called Ms. Abbot. "And Hannah, how many times must I tell you to stop threatening the portraits? Great grandfather Joey is in a right state, you know!"

"Sorry mum," chorused the two Abbot children.

"Thank you, you two- i yes /i dear, I'm changing my shoes." Following a rustle of silk, Hannah's mother came out of the bedroom. Following her was a very disgruntled man which Hermione assumed to be their father. Ms. Abbot smoothly glided down the staircase, ignoring Mr. Abbot's grumbling.

"I can't find my wand," he groused.

"Dear, I keep telling you that you left it in those robes you took to the tailor. And anyway, it's not like you're going to need it this evening, so stop grumbling and come here. I want to meet Hannah's friend from Hogwarts. Richard, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is my husband Richard Abbot." Mr. Abbot bowed stiffly, clearly still ruffled about his wand. Hermione dropped a little curtsy.

"How do you do, Mr. Abbot?"

"Very well thank you." as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the knocker on the door sounded. He turned around. "I believe that the guests are here. Hannah, wait here for your escort."

"But who IS my escort?" confused, Hannah shook her head.

"He's the son of one of your mother's bosom friends. Don't you worry. Miranda, kindly go to the ballroom and receive them as they come in. You too, Adam."

"Yes, dad," said Adam dully. He offered his arm to Hermione. "shall we?"

"Thank you." she took the proffered arm. He guided her to a closed door across the room. "Out of pure curiosity, do you know who's going to be at this dinner tonight?" asked Hermione.

"Over ten different families, I'm told." Adam held up a hand and began ticking them off on his fingers. "There's the Brocklehursts, the Knights, the Macmillians, and the Zabinis, just to name a few. I'm not entirely sure of who else is coming. I've heard that one of the Weasleys is coming as well."

"Ah. Well, it seems that some of my friends will be here tonight, then." Adam opened the door, revealing a brightly lit corridor. With a lighter heart, Hermione allowed him to steer her in through the door.

"Oh, yes- I think there's another… the Malfoys, I believe." Hermione froze.

"The Malfoys?"

"Yes. They aren't that well acquainted with our family, but almost everyone in the Wizarding community who are Pu-" He checked himself with a blush, remembering that Hermione was a muggleborn. "Who are of high status are invited," he finished. He shifted uncomfortably. "And besides," he added, looking furtively behind his shoulder, "Mother was hoping that Hannah might get married to their son." Hermione snorted derisively.

"That is a disgusting notion. He is the most snobbish and insulting little prick I have ever met. Thank Merlin I haven't seen him since graduation day." They reached the grand double doors at the end of the short corridor. Adam grasped the crystal handle.

"This is the door to the ballroom. Are you ready?"

Swallowing the sick feeling that had started rising up in her stomach, she nodded.

-end of chapter 2-

Next up… Hermione gets dunk? O.o


	3. Chapter three

Disclaimer: you know the drill…. i don't own.

I'd update more if it wasn't for all this stupid homework… bah…Thank you for the reviews anyway.

Chapter 3

Sneaking behind a large potted fern, Hermione observed the guests as they poured in through the door. She was determined to avoid butting heads with Malfoy and his extremely unpleasant family tonight. Adam had gone to fetch her a drink from the refreshment table, and she was using the time she had to make herself scarce.

"Here's your drink, Hermione." Adam returned holding two glasses of champagne, handing one to Hermione.

"Thanks." She took it and sipped it, her hand shaking.

"Is something the matter?" Hermione looked up into Adam's eyes and shook her head.

"It's all this excitement, I guess." She looked back down, fingering the delicate stem of her champagne glass.

"Ah, don't worry about a thing. It'll be over in a blink of an eye," he said. Somehow, Hermione got a feeling that it wouldn't be the same for her. Suddenly, they heard Mr. Abbot calling.

"Adam! Come here, I need you to meet my friend." Adam sighed.

"Duty calls." He smiled. "I'm sure you can manage by yourself for a minute; I'll be back in a jiffy." Hermione bit her lip.

"Okay."

As he walked away, Hermione took a seat in one of the many chairs lining the wall, carefully choosing the one near the potted fern. She didn't feel like going to greet her old schoolmates.

Her eyes swept the room anyway, searching for familiar faces. She spotted Terry Boot standing in the opposite corner, talking to Hannah. She turned her face to the refreshment table where she spotted Ernie Macmillan downing glass after glass of champagne. That's strange; didn't Adam mention more people that she knew? Half closing her eyes, she turned her gaze to the fireplace. For a minute, she didn't think that anyone was there. until she turned her eyes to the shadows. And saw HIM. She felt a wave of disgust hit her.

Leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, Draco Malfoy was the very picture of the dark, brooding male. Clad in emerald green robes, he slowly turned his head to what looked like his mother, the firelight glinting on his pale, silver-blonde hair and finely chiseled face. She was saying something to him, and as he listened his infamous smirk slid into place.

_That smarmy bastard_, thought Hermione condescendingly. Someone had to teach him a lesson and wipe that nasty smirk off his face. She turned away from him.

"Hermione, my dear! Are you feeling unwell?" she looked up and saw Hannah's mother hurrying towards her with a look of concern. "Would you like to go outside in the gardens to get some fresh air?" Hermione forced a smile on her face.

"No, no. I was just taking a rest from all the dancing." As if she actually did any dancing yet.

"Well I must say this party is turning out to be a wonderful success. There are over fifty people here tonight! Can you imagine?" Hermione nodded dully, not really listening as Mrs. Abbot continued to prattle on.

"Have you tried our snacks yet? The tea sandwiches are divine!"

"I haven't tried them yet." Hermione stood up, shaking her head to clear it. Sometimes she wondered if she was actually allergic to parties.

"Come, I'll show you." Mrs. Abbot began to lead her across the ballroom. They had barely taking two steps when someone called Mrs. Abbot.

"Miranda." The two women turned around and found themselves facing Lucius Malfoy. "I must compliment you on your efforts towards this ball. Its definitely going to be talked about for weeks to come." Hannah's mother blushed.

"Well, Lucius my planner contributed to a large part of this, you know."

"Mm." Slowly, deliberately, Lucius' eyes turned to Hermione. "Ah…" he said softly. "And who do we have here?" Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Oh! Well, this is my daughter's friend, Hermione Granger. She's staying over for a couple of weeks."

"Ah, yes. We've met before, have we not? It's been so long. From Gryffindor house, as I seem to recall. I must say, no one can wear your house colors as well as you do." Draco's father let out a little chuckle. "I'm sure you've met my son Draco." He indicated to the young man standing behind him- the Slytherin prince himself.

"I have," said Hermione icily. "Though we have not seen each other since our last day at Hogwarts."

"Well, perhaps you two should get reacquainted." Lucius turned to Malfoy, staring at him. His son understood the silent command and stepped forward, offering his hand.

"May I have this dance?" Hermione looked into his face, and saw the sinister, mocking look in his eye that she remembered so well. However, she couldn't decline with Hannah's mother watching, so stiffly she accepted his request. He took her hand and dragged her onto the dance floor, his grip like iron. The next song that the orchestra was starting up was a waltz, so there was plenty of time to talk as they drifted away from the two adults watching them. Silently, they took their place on the floor and as the violins struck up the first few notes, whirled into motion. For a minute or two, they didn't talk as Draco led a straight-backed Hermione into the dance. Then, he spoke.

"So." For a moment, Hermione was sorely tempted to snap back "so what?" Instead, she didn't reply. "Wonderful party, is it not?" Then, he leaned in a bit closer. "The decorations are truly wonderful." She was silent.

"It's a wonder that a mudblood like you was invited. The Abbots surely have lowered their standards," he said with in a conversational tone. Through the red silk, he felt her back stiffen as they spun around, dancing past Terry Boot and Hannah. "They're exactly like Dumbledore; muddling around with filth."

"You filthy little ferret," she snarled, her rage stung out of hiding. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing at, but you better watch your mouth."

"What game? I'm merely doing you a favor. This will probably be the only dance you'll be having tonight." His soft voice was filled with malice. She tightened her lips. "Who else would dance with you?" her feet stopped moving.

"Let me go, Malfoy."

"Don't make a scene, Granger. People are watching us." He pulled her closer and forced her into the waltz, almost dragging her along. They didn't speak again until the song ended. When the last notes quavered and died away, she tried to shove herself from him.

"Trying to get away so soon?" he held on to her arm. "We haven't gotten 'reacquainted' yet."

"And if I have anything to say about it, we never will." She tried to pull her arm free. "Let me go." To her surprise, he released her. Slightly unsettled, Hermione studied his face for a trace of emotion. Though the room was very warm, Hermione felt a chill as she looked into his eyes. She stared for a few moments longer before she heard her name being called yet again. Almost thankfully, she turned her head away.

"There you are, Hermione!" to her relief, Adam appeared at her left. "I was hoping to claim you for one last dance before supper." He looked at Malfoy. "Ah! Good evening, Draco."

"Adam." Malfoy inclined his head.

"Well, it seems like I've interrupted something. If you'll excuse me-" Adam began to walk away. Hermione grabbed his sleeve.

"No, no- you haven't interrupted anything at all. I was just thanking Mr. Malfoy for the last dance."

"Oh. Well in that case-" He held out his hand. "Shall we?"

"Thank you. Have a nice day, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione added in a distinctly frigid tone. She placed her hand in Adam's. As he led her away, she looked over her shoulder one last time. Malfoy was staring after them contemptuously. Then, he abruptly turned and walked away, his broad shoulders rudely brushing past nearby people.

"Who put a Filibuster firework in _his_ knickers today?" said Adam quietly. "Unpleasant little bugger isn't he?" Hermione couldn't agree more.

o0o0o0o0o

As soon as Adam and Hermione finished dancing, a gong resonated across the high-ceiling. People began leaving the dance floor as the gong sounded two more times.

"Supper time," said Adam. "I'll bet you anything that its French cuisine again; you just wait and see." he shook his head.

"What do we do after dinner?"

"Well…" Adam paused to think. "Mum'll probably open up the doors to the gardens so people can stroll through them for a bit. Most people prefer to stay inside and dance, though." He tucked her left arm into his right and began to walk them to the dining hall.

As they drew close to the open doors, Hermione saw many large, round tables grouped close together. Name cards were carefully arranged around them, indicating as to who should sit where.

They moved to a table on the right, where Hannah and about three other people were seated. A place card next to Hannah's read _Adam Abbot_ and on the other side of Adam's card, another, in flowing script, read _Hermione Granger_. Ever the gentleman, Adam pulled Hermione's chair out for her and waited for her to be seated before he sat down himself.

Nervously, Hermione tried to recall proper etiquette. She picked up her napkin, opened it, and laid it down on her lap, smoothing the wrinkles out with her hand. Thankfully, she remembered her forks. A servant came around with a wine bottle. Mimicking the other people seated round the table, Hermione held up her wine glass for the alcohol to be poured in. when her glass was full, she brought it to her lips. Hermione didn't like to drink alcohol, but as the semi-sweet taste reached her tastebuds, she forgot instantly that she disliked it.

"Do you like it?" asked Adam. "It's claret."

"It's quite good," said Hermione, surprised. "I don't usually hold with alcoholic drinks, but this is very pleasant." She took another sip. As food began appearing on the table, people started conversing in low voices. Hermione finished her wine and refilled her glass. Dimly, she was aware of foods like lobster patties and seasoned chicken being magically whisked on and off the table, but she didn't eat much of it. She nibbled a bit of the richly marbled filet mignon and ate a portion of salad, but other then that her concentration was completely fixed on her claret.

"Hermione, are you ok? You've barely touched the food on your plate," said Adam, his dark green eyes filled with concern.

"Oh, yes. I'm perfectly fine," she said, her voice higher than usual. "I'm just not very hungry, that's all." She finished her fifth glass of wine and was going for another refill when Adam stayed her hand.

"That's quite enough claret for you. You'll be on the floor stone pissed in no time at the rate you're going." He signaled at a house elf, who took away the wine bottle. Hermione yelped.

"Put that back." She glared at the elf, who blushed and went down a servant's staircase. "Where's she going?"

"Camilla is going to get you a nice glass of lemonade. That's bound to be much better then all that wine." The empty dishes vanished from the table and in their place, and deserts started popping up. Adam cut her a wide slice of cake and put it on her plate. "Here: eat more, drink less. It'll soak up the alcohol." The house elf named Camilla returned with her lemonade and put it on the table. Hermione ate a bite of cake, and then put her fork down.

"I can't eat anymore. Really."

"It's because of all that wine sloshing around in your stomach," muttered Adam.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." He coughed.

"I'm feeling a little light-headed, Adam."

"You're foxed. It was the fifth glass that did you in."

"Do you really think so? Because it's not an unpleasant feeling at all. Is this why men drink so much?"

"Most likely. You're going to feel wretched in the morning," he predicted. "I suggest that you take a walk in the gardens to get some fresh air after dinner."

"I think I'll go now," She said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "There's too much atmosphere in here." Hermione stood up. As soon as she was on her feet, the room tilted alarmingly. She wobbled a bit, but righted herself before she could disgrace herself. The soft murmurings of conversation swirled around her, making her head throb.

"Are you sure that you're ok, Hermione? Do you want me to escort you?"

"I'm fine." In a valiant attempt to appear sober, she straightened her back. "I'm not slurring my speech yet, anyway." Adam shook his head.

"The main entrance to the gardens won't be open just yet; if you want to go outside you can use the side door." He pointed to an archway on the right. "If you're really sure about going off by yourself, then I won't protest." Hermione nodded and then slowly walked out through the door.

As she stepped outside, the scent of various flowers both magical and plain filled her senses. The mixture of smells overwhelmed Hermione and swirled around her as she walked down the narrow path, her mind swirling in a dreamy, alcohol-induced haze. _Adam was wrong_, she thought. The "fresh air" was muddling her thoughts even more with its heady, intoxicating effect.

After taking a few more steps down the path, she noticed an elegantly carved wooden sign by the side, which read _The Rose Garden._ "Sounds pretty," she mumbled to herself. Without another thought, she stumbled slowly down the path lined with roses. For a minute, the thought that someone might see her out here drunk flitted through her mind but she quickly brushed it away. There wouldn't be anyone here; they're all bound to still be in the dining hall. Overhead, the moon floated lazily above her head, not yet a complete circle. All was quiet save for the chirping of the crickets and the soft _tap… tap… tap…_ of Hermione's feet as she made her way deeper and deeper into the wall-high garden of roses. The five glasses of claret she had drunk had not worn off yet. Instead, with each step, she became more and more unsettled.

As Hermione walked on, she came to a fork in the path. Both paths were obscured from view by the wall of roses. After a moment's of hesitation, she tottered down the left path. Wraithlike, she mindlessly wandered around the rose garden unaware that she was totally lost.

Eventually, her feet brought her to a clearing with a fountain. Four benches encircled it, and just beyond there was the most beautiful and lifelike statue she had ever seen. It reminded her of the Greek Kuros statues she had seen in the museums- perfectly sculpted with every fold in the clothing, every curve of the face done with care and consideration. Entranced, she drew towards the statue. It seemed to glow with an Otherworldly aurora as her fogged mind struggled to comprehend what was going on. But why would someone place a statue facing the rose wall? As she slowly advanced into the clearing, her foot came down on a twig, snapping it. The statue whipped around at the sound. Hermione froze. For a moment, her mind was crystal clear and completely sober. Bloody hell, that wasn't a statue! It was-

"Malfoy?!"

0o0o0o0o0o0

He stared at her. For a fraction of a millisecond, he truly believed that she was a ghost, with her long, wispy hair floating around her pale face. Then as he regained his senses, he realized that it was just the moonlight playing tricks on his eyes. He slid his sneer back into place.

"Sod off, Granger," he said coldly. "You're not supposed to be out here." She blinked.

"You're not supposed to be either," she said.

"I'm not in the mood to deal with mudbloods." She scowled. Was she going to try and hex him? God, Draco hoped so. She seemed like the perfect outlet for his annoyance. A stupid little mudblood. His fingers twitched, undecided as to if he should reach for his wand.

"You think that you're so speshial-_special,_ Malfoy." For the first time, he noticed the slight slur in her voice and her wobbly stance. Bringing his eyes to her face, he saw the dark blush that stained her cheeks. Merlin, she was roaring drunk! Granger, the oh-so-proper school valadictorian? Now this was something new. He raised one delicate, blonde eyebrow.

"Now, now... what's this? The ex-head girl of Hogwarts _drunk?_ And I thought that you were a stuck-up goody-two-shoes." His sneer became even more pronounced. "You know, a young lady like you shouldn't be wandering around in this place alone. Especially when you're drunk. You never know... some crazy wizard just might finish you off." He felt a prickle of annoyance. When the hell was she going to leave? "No one'll even hear u scream."

"Don't you dare threaten me," she said quietly.

"You're a disgrace," he spat. "What would Potter say if he saw you now?" Granger was silent.

Suddenly, Draco cocked his head. He thought he heard something. Were there voices in the garden? Perhaps dinner was over and people had started to pour into the garden area for a walk. He made ready to walk out before he was seen with this drunken madwoman. All of the sudden, Granger stepped towards him, her whole form wobbling. What the hell did she think she was doing? She took another step. Now she was about three feet away from him. She closed her eyes.

"What're you-" He stepped backwards warily. As he did, Granger uttered a little moan and toppled over, unconscious. Instinctively, his arms went around her to keep her from knocking him into the thorn-ridden rose wall. As he steadied himself, two female revelers rounded the corner on the path just in time to see what probably appeared to be a passionate embrace. Hellfire, blood and bones! Those stupid giggling chits! How dare they come along and catch him in such a compromising position?! They goggled. His face hardened into a mask of fury.

"What the fuck are you two looking at?" he snarled.


End file.
